And it was of Sunday afternoons that began those long talks with Ben Garside that had no less influence on Tom's destiny than the earlier monitions of Mr. Black, or the shrewd worldly axioms of Tom o' Fairbanks.
It had been a matter of less surprise than delight for Ben to find that Tom could not only read, but read without having to spell out or slur over long words. The joy of Hannah was great thereat, for so was Ben deprived of any pretext for sneaking out of a Sunday morning to the nearest public to hear the paper read. Now, she managed to produce each week a penny, by virtue of which Ben became one in a partnership of six, whose united contributions purchased a weekly paper. It mattered not at all that when it reached Ben's house it was much thumbed and soiled and beer-stained, for in virtue of receiving it when truly it was a week old and much the worse for wear, Ben was allowed to retain it in perpetual proprietorship, and, had made a cover of "rolling boards" in which the copies were tenderly hoarded up and treasured.
Now Ben was a great politician, and if pressed upon so close and home a matter would profess and express himself an Owenite. Add to this that he very rarely troubled either chapel or church except on Christmas Day, and that he made a point of slinking out of the house if he chanced to be in when the vicar of the parish or the shepherd of a dissenting fold called at the cottage.
"Aw cannot abide parsons," he confided to Tom one day. "Though aw wodn't let yar Lucy yer me say so for worlds."
Now Tom, as we know, had been taught to respect the Church, and he was absolutely against when Ben Garside, a little wiry, keen faced, middle-aged man, eager of speech and not a little fond of the sound of his own voice, went on:
"Weel, Tom, aw'm nowise minded to hurt yo'r feelin's, an' if th' parsons wer owt like that Mister Black 'at yo set such store by, an' well yo've a reet to by all accaants, if they tuk after him, aw'd happen ha' cause to alter mi mind. But "ifs" an' "buts" ma' all th' differ i' this world, an' they simply isn't."
"Well, they couldn't be better," said Tom, pleased with this tribute to his benefactor.
"Noah, but they set up to be. Nah aw'll nooan go as fur as some folk 'at aw know, 'at say as parson's bun' to be oather a rogue or a fooil."